Page 179 of Faking Cinderella
And then he notices Lucky pausing for him, and he’s leaving too, with Lucky’s arm slung around him.
Rhys grips my hand tight while Laney lingers, watching us.
“Go on,” I tell her. “Yell at me. Tell me how awful I am.”
Her gaze dips briefly to the ground, then lifts back up to meet mine. “Your article inBusiness Women Weeklyabout increased productivity through staff care and support last year changed my work life. I quote it all the time, and you’re right. It works. Thank you.”
I brace myself, waiting for thebut.
All I see, though, is sadness and sympathy. “And as the daughter of a suspected cheater with an ungodly amount of money and resources at his disposal to cover it all up,” Laneysays, “I’m sorry for what yours has undoubtedly put you through. We all deserve better.”
She gives my shoulder a slight squeeze, and then she, too, turns to leave.
“Do you think they’ll forgive me?” I ask her.
I know the answer.
The right answer.
The right answer isno.
I broke them. I broke their family.
I don’t deserve their forgiveness.
Much like I don’t deserve Rhys’s either for what I need to do next.
Laney meets my eyes again. “I think they have a bumpy road ahead of them with family in general. Take all the time you need, but it’s probably best if you don’t come back inside.”
You’re not welcome here anymore, Margot. You were never welcome as you.
That’s what I hear echoing in my head as the woman most like me here, the woman who could’ve been a tight friend who would’ve understood things that sometimes even Daphne doesn’t, walks away.
Rhys pulls me into a hug that I shouldn’t take and that I don’t deserve.
I squeeze him back while my brain does what my brain does and asks me how to salvage the situation so that I can still destroy my father.
Fucking brain.
No matter how much I try, I still haven’t trained it to take a back seat to my heart.
I don’t deserve my half brothers.
Or anyone.
28
IS IT HEROIC OR IS IT CHICKENSHIT?
Rhys
Margot hasn’t saida single word in the hour since we left the party.
Not on the drive back to the cabin.
Not while she’s packed her bags.
Not when Cyril shows up on the doorstep and starts rearranging the bags she’d already put in the van to make them fit better.
